For The Love Of Moons And Nargles
by About-Yearning
Summary: "She is his moon, the one that makes the call of the other moon hurt less." Mostly canon, but Tonks died instead of Sirius in book five. Nothing happens until Luna is of age. Companion piece to "What Was, What Is, What Will", but can easily stand alone.


**Disclaimor:**** If I owned Harry Potter, would I really be writing fanfiction?**

**Author's Note:**_**Nothing romantic happens or is even thought of (on Remus' part) until Luna is of age. **_

**Also, this is a companion piece to "What Was, What Is, What Will". But it isn't necessary to read one to understand the other. The story is mostly canon except for the story-lines of Sirius, Remus, and Tonks: Sirius didn't die, Tonks died in his stead.**

**Enjoy! **

It started after Malfoy Manor.

He knew her before, of course. The strange little second year with the long, straggly blond hair and dreamy eyes. He always found himself both pleased and anxious when she raised her hand in class, because her questions never failed to touch on some odd, fantastical subject that was probably at least fifty percent rubbish. But she was clever and sweet, that much was obvious. He never mentioned it to Hermione (because he knew it would bother her needlessly and because he'd meant it when he called her "the cleverest witch of your age"), but she wasn't the first student to discover his furry little problem. After every full moon that year, he found a bar of chocolate and a cup of tea outside his door, although it wasn't until March that he discovered who his mysterious friend was. He woke up earlier than usual that day, and caught her as she was leaving. He tried to give the gifts back, of course, with profuse thanks and a deep sense of unworthiness. But she insisted, saying simply that she'd heard the moon's call could be particularly painful, and had he noticed the infestation of Nargles by his door? He made sure to catch her every time after that, and they would share the tea and chocolate over conversations about Gulping Plimpies and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and other creatures he hadn't the heart to tell her probably weren't real.

But she was just a child then, and barely more on his mind than any other.

The next time Remus sees her, she seems to have aged a century. She is still tiny, delicate, like some rare flower that grows only in moonlit courtyards. But there are scars on her wrists and ankles, bruises on her face, and that look in her eyes. The one he has seen in so many others-in Sirius', after he escaped from Azkaban, and in his own when he looks in the mirror after the night of the full moon. But because it is her, and because she has always been a little too wise for this earth, he can see that the look is tempered with a certain eerie calmness. After all, you can't be driven crazy if you were never quite sane to begin with, and she is not broken, just bruised.

They are both staying at Bill and Fleur's cottage by the lake. She, recovering from the sorts of things that happen to prisoners. He, recuperating from the attentions of angry werewolves, who it seems do not like spies in their midst. Their friendship comes quickly, fed by early morning walks by the water and endless cups of tea. He notices that she talks less about beasts he has never heard of now, and she follows his eyes as they stray over her in directions they never did before. He hasn't let himself think of love in a while, not since the death of the bright, cheerful pink-haired girl. The one with whom he was only just beginning to look. There has been neither opportunity nor inclination, because he isn't getting any younger or any richer or any less dangerous, and in any case he has lost too many people already. He doesn't want to grow attached. But Remus knows that it is a lost battle with her, and it isn't long before they are kissing under the bright stars. He tries to convince her with his usual protestations that this is wrong, bad for her. But he finds those arguments growing feebler and feebler. After all, she is used to being an outcast, and her scars prove that danger visits even the most innocent no matter how hard we try to prevent it. And what use does she have for money-it can't buy her protection from Wrackspurts.

And then it is the final battle. Somehow, they are separated, and he is dueling Macnair. In between dodging shots of green light and sending out his own, he realizes that he loves her. He thinks, in a way, that he has been waiting for her his whole life. She fills a hole in him, one that others can patch up but only she fits perfectly. His moon, his Luna. And he realizes that he _has _to survive this, and has to find her, because he won't forgive himself if he doesn't. His next spell hits Macnair, and the Deatheater falls. And then he sees her, she is over in a corner, clutching her wand arm. But she's alive. Someone else has seen her as well, though, someone who smells like death and blood-and he is slightly quicker than Remus. And Remus runs, to stop the monster who stole his childhood from biting the girl he loves. And he realizes that he has never seen Luna scared before, but there is fear in her eyes now, and she is too injured to move. So she recoils farther into the corner, and he hears her whisper, even from across the room: "Not again." His stomach drops out from underneath him. He wonders wonders why he never guessed before. She was there, at the manor, all that time... But he realizes that he has never seen Fenrir as being able to separate the beast from the man, never seen him capable of hurting without biting. So he runs faster. And he gets there in time, and then he is hitting him and hitting him and hitting him and he doesn't stop. Finally, he feels the life slip from the body in his hands, and drops it like it has burnt him. He turns to her, then, and as he looks her in the eyes he wonders how it is that even now there is no fear there, at least not of him.

Soon, it is all over. He can't quite believe it. And there are bodies to clear, and loved ones to clutch. But all he really wants is to get away, to hold her close.

Finally, night comes and he gets that chance. She is sitting in front of him in her nightgown, and he wants so badly to touch her. But she is delicate, breakable, and he remembers that look of fear in her eyes as the monster closed in, and thinks of desolate dungeon cells where no-one can hear you scream. So he is hesitant.

She takes that away in the end, as always. Pulls him close and whispers, "When I look at you, I see only _you." _So he lays her down on the bed and kisses her. Kisses her with all he has, and whispers in her ear all the feelings he was too scared to reveal before.

A few months later, they are standing together at a wedding. It is a wedding he has known will come. Has known since he first saw a little know-it-all on a train and saw inside her the shadow of the woman she would become, a woman he once knew. Since he reunited with an old brother-in-all-but-blood and realized that not only had thirteen years with the dementors not managed to steal their friendship, but it hadn't stopped him loving the know-it-all either. So he smiles. And as he smiles he feels in his pocket for the ring there. He will give it to the girl beside him, tonight.

And she will say,

"Yes."

She is his moon. With her, the other moon doesn't seem so bad anymore.

_His Luna._ And he is finally, finally whole.

**Reviews are absolutely lovely. **

**And if you liked this story, I humbly suggest you check out the companion piece "What Was, What Is, What Will". It's the story of Hermione and Sirius, and it's written in a similar style. **


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